


Like Heaven to Touch

by ActualHurry



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Explicit Consent, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Kings Rising
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:35:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22260418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActualHurry/pseuds/ActualHurry
Summary: Laurent wants to try chalis. Damen joins him.
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 194





	Like Heaven to Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Consensual couple use of aphrodisiacs is a fun time, right? Anyway, I read the series in a single sitting and then dry heaved until this came out of my heart like some affection-laden furball.

Damen placed four phials of oil beside the bed, which did not look at all like it had been used thoroughly during the night and the morning, but he knew it had. He placed two more phials at the desk where Laurent sat earlier in the day, fixing the phrasing in a document that they had both signed moments afterwards. A phial here, and a phial there. The last of them he dropped with the first four. It paid to be prepared, and in the throes of it, one could not stand to run out of such a necessity. 

The process took no more than a handful of minutes, and yet when Damen turned he found he had been watched through at least some of it, judging by Laurent’s calm, steady pose at the door.

“This seems an excess, don’t you think?” Laurent asked.

His tone betrayed nothing, but Damen had become fluent in Laurent’s tiniest mannerisms. He had learned well what a gaze flicking from place to place meant, and as Laurent tallied up Damen’s stashed supplies, Damen let him decide the answer to his own question. Laurent looked at him again, blinking once, slow.

“Really.” 

“Neither of us are going to be very excited if we have to stand up,” Damen said reasonably.

“I can think of a standing position or two that wouldn’t trouble us. Are you lacking creativity?” 

Damen was moved to a smile. “I promise, it’s not creativity I’m concerned with.”

He closed the yawning space between them, overjoyed when Laurent leaned into his orbit as if drawn. Laurent stretched on his tiptoes and Damen’s arms fell around his waist. He dipped lower to kiss Laurent’s cheek, a welcome back more than a heated beginning.

“Satiation, then?” Laurent prompted. His lips were close enough to Damen’s ear that Damen felt the breath of the words. 

Maybe it was a heated beginning after all. “You say that word like it’s…” 

“Promising?” Laurent’s eyes were bright. Playing. “I hope so.” 

They broke apart because if they did not, then the night would go on and they would have already found a way to _satiation_ , but Laurent had made a daring request days ago and Damen was, as always, hopelessly obliging.

“ _Chalis_ ,” Laurent had said to the curve of Damen’s thigh. 

Damen had looked, expecting conversation, yet had only seen that head of bright hair, moving, felt a wet warmth around the tip of him, and he had groaned in wordless reply.

“I’d like to try it again,” Laurent had decided. He had finally finished the thought once Damen had spent himself. 

Damen, dazed, had nodded.

It was, by all rights, completely and despicably schemed. Laurent had come to terms with his desire, had taken a look at the situation, had recognized that if given the opportunity, Damen would have too many questions, and thusly had attacked with clever intent. It was apparently to Laurent’s preference that they get here, with the _chalis_ waiting to be imbibed, before Damen could properly question his certainty.

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes.” 

“You remember it?”

“Yes.”

“And you are prepared?” 

Laurent rolled a curious, sharp look over to him. “Not yet, but you’ll help me with that later, won’t you,” he said, dry, but there it was again. The playfulness. The teasing.

Damen couldn’t stop his grin if he tried.

Seated primly on the couch, Laurent reached out for the phial sitting on the table to examine it. He appeared for all the world unconcerned with any logistical problems that could arise from their coming inebriation, one leg drawn up, the other stretched out. His heel was resting on Damen’s thigh. Consciously, Damen took hold of Laurent’s ankle, ringing his fingers around it. 

Akielon fashion suited him, Damen thought – not for the first time – with despair. He was distinctly avoiding looking at his thighs and the way his position bared them. Later. Soon.

Laurent tipped the phial, left, right. The pink-tinged liquid, tacky, stained the inside of the glass.

“So this is what is to send us spiraling into debauchery.” 

“You’re excited.”

Laurent, now smiling, said, “I am. But,” he opened the phial, “I am also well informed of all the reasons we don’t need this to spiral into debauchery.”

It was an out. Damen recognized it. “I want to see you.” 

The phial, almost to Laurent’s lips, stopped. “Debauched?”

No, Damen had seen that many times, and Laurent’s gaze flicking away from his expressed that he was aware that Damen was recalling each and every one of his memories, somehow catalogued. Damen felt as if perhaps he’d already dosed himself and simply forgotten.

“Indulgent,” Damen said instead. He slid his hand along the length of Laurent’s shin, and then under, to the narrow swath of his calf. He stopped halfway. “I like it when you stop thinking.” His thumb pressed beneath his leg, at the soft crease on the other side of his knee, and he heard Laurent’s breath catch. “I like it when you let go.”

Laurent’s grip on the phial had tightened. “I don’t need this to—” 

“No, I know.” Damen was quick to correct whatever assumption sharpened Laurent’s thoughts. “But this is different.”

Laurent’s silence was not so tense then. Damen knew he felt the same about it, or else they wouldn’t be deciding on this together. 

“How much?” Laurent asked. “An even split?” 

“For you? Less than half. It’s been mixed with honey and water.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t think Laurent could handle it; rather that he didn’t think Laurent would appreciate being left needy after it had long run its course through Damen. The look that Laurent gave the phial argued otherwise. Maybe he would.

Thoughtfully, Laurent pulled his legs closer to himself, arms propped on his knees.

He apparently decided to play nicely, because he tipped the phial into his mouth and swallowed no more than half, as instructed. He licked over the liquid clinging to his lips, making a strange face. Already watching him, Damen took the phial. There was still a generous amount left, and Damen followed his lead and tipped it back.

He had not quite finished swallowing it when Laurent’s mouth covered his own.

Damen’s lips parted with the wicked curl of Laurent’s tongue, seeking to lap between his teeth and inward, wet with _chalis_ and anticipation. Damen, pressed to the couch with Laurent now in his lap, helplessly invited his affection in. His free hand lingered at Laurent’s waist, balancing him. He was painfully aware of Laurent’s bare legs on either side of his own, Laurent’s neat, purposeful way of kissing that he had adopted only once Damen’s slower, passionate kisses had become familiar to him.

Familiar, but no less enjoyed – Damen proved that by dragging the kiss out, leaning into Laurent as if he was trapped within his pull, chasing his lips, and he dropped the empty phial in favor of cupping Laurent’s nape. Laurent broke their embrace to take in air. A flush crawled up his neck, scattered its warmth across his cheeks like a dusting of rose. Damen wore his own small victory with pride. He pressed his thumb against the side of Laurent’s waist more firmly, deeply invested in the speed at which his chest rose and fell. 

“It takes a few minutes,” Damen said, amused.

“I know,” Laurent said. His breaths still came fast. His palms rested on top of Damen’s chest, over folds of cloth. “You said only half.” 

“You wanted more?”

Laurent licked his lips again, this time more deliberately than the last. “I took more.” 

“I swallowed it,” Damen said, somehow scandalized.

“You usually do.” Laurent’s eyes gleamed. “I’ll have to be quicker next time.” 

Damen hid his laugh against Laurent’s neck, then decided that _a few minutes_ should not keep them from getting an early start. Laurent must have known his intent the moment that Damen’s lips fit against his bare shoulder, because Damen felt Laurent’s hips ease closer in response. Damen squeezed his waist, trailing a long, slow line of kisses from the curve of Laurent’s neck up to his jaw. His skin was warm and dry, and Damen’s lips were soft and moist with their shared kiss already, slightly sticky with the _chalis_. 

It was smart that they had already warned off the guards and servants for the rest of the night and into the morning. Damen did not want to share this with anyone but Laurent and it was even more so that he didn’t want to share Laurent, like this, with anyone else. The world could catch its glimpses of Laurent’s uncomplicated, rich happiness, hard-won and highly valued; that, Damen would never argue.

But this: Laurent, panting against his mouth as Damen teased at skin beneath his chiton and Laurent, head tipping back as if to beg Damen’s lingering attention once more and Laurent, face flushed and body eagerly folding into each of Damen’s wandering touches – all of this, Damen wanted to be his and his alone. 

The chiton rode up on Laurent’s thighs where he straddled Damen’s lap, baring a landscape of skin so rarely seen without the frame of their bedsheets. Damen hummed his appreciation and felt out the curve of Laurent’s hips, suddenly enthralled by the lush warmth of the form pressed against him. Fingers dared crawl higher, beneath the chiton altogether, hands melding to the curve of Laurent’s waist, the tempting line of his body leading Damen’s touch down again, this time centered between his legs.

Laurent was kissing him then, before Damen even reached his destination. His tongue swept the lower pout of Damen’s lip, then slipped inward. Damen’s pulse battered his ears, a rush of blood split two cardinal ways – north, to his head, and south, long past winning. He felt both liquid and hot, as if someone had spilled him into a body-shaped mold and left him to cool beneath the apex of summer. Belatedly, Damen recognized the blurriness of the sensations for what they were.

“ _Laurent_.”

Damen’s own voice was far away, all his being rooted on Laurent’s deft fingers undoing the clasp of Damen’s chiton and pushing it off of his shoulder. Laurent’s chiton followed suit; Damen felt clumsy, grasping at the waterfall of cloth to force it away faster, only so he could touch, feel, memorize the pretty planes of skin underneath. 

Laurent arched into Damen as if he had a craving that could not be sated. They were kissing, they were groping, they were moved. Damen blinked and found himself perched over Laurent, Laurent pressed gracelessly into the couch, his languid form seeming molten. Their atmosphere verged on pyretic, but Laurent ribs expanded with the lazy pace of someone wanting, not someone needing.

No, Damen thought, fitting his palms over Laurent’s sides. Laurent’s muscles jumped under the touch. He was not unaffected, but he was still trying to be.

Damen saw Laurent’s dazed gaze sharpen on him as he tugged the rest of the chiton off of him. Helpfully, Laurent moved to kick it away from the couch, and then he was naked under Damen. It was, as ever, a sight that Damen would beg for, but these days it was freely given, and always potent. 

“How do you feel?” Damen asked, but he made it unfair when he leaned down to lick a questing taste along Laurent’s throat, stopping beneath his ear to feel out the feverish beat of his heart.

Laurent, his mouth at first open to answer, had stopped and curled the beginning of his response into a soft, breathy sound. Damen pursued it. He pressed his teeth to Laurent’s jaw and flicked his tongue against the lobe of his ear, stalling his reply again. 

“I feel—” Another sound, and a sigh to accompany. Laurent fell apart for him, a puddle with four limbs, completely allowing. “Very good. That is…good.” 

Damen voiced wordless agreement in the form of a low, delighted rumble, his mouth still chasing Laurent’s sensitive places. Laurent dug into the back of his shoulders, and Damen felt it all so crisply, each point of contact like the first snap of an apple. His mouth watered the same.

He asked again, lips at the edge of Laurent’s ear.

“Do you feel—”

“ _Yes_.” Damen reeled then, like Laurent’s warm breath along his skin was a truly physical touch instead. “Yes. Do you have to ask?” 

Laurent’s hips met Damen’s in a slow, languid roll, proving his point. Damen shattered at the friction, control turning from a sheer lake’s surface into a rippling wave, felt Laurent gasp and catch a noise between his teeth. That rippled him too, all of it heady. 

“Better than usual?” Damen pressed, wanting to hear it. 

“No,” said Laurent, and Damen came up short, blinking at him. His vision mixed at the corners, but Laurent stayed in stark focus. “Not better,” Laurent added, and Damen shivered as he felt Laurent’s hand settle at the nape of his neck, fingers curling there. “ _Stronger_.” 

It was a real and true magnetism that tugged Damen in to kiss him, Laurent arching, every moment greedy and snapped up like each of them was starving. Damen was naked and then they were flush, roiling together there on the couch, plush pillows scattered on the floor and somewhere under Damen’s knee was the empty _chalis_ phial. It, too, found its way to the floor with a clatter that neither paid any mind, Laurent’s mouth parting under Damen’s less than relaxed efforts.

It was unhurried, once. But the slow-licking heat beneath his skin had only been prepping Damen for something far more ravaging. Where Laurent touched, pleasure tore its way from the very center of Damen, and when Damen teased, Laurent cried out. Any sense that he was holding back was lost. Damen’s final shred of clarity wondered if it was the _chalis_ that caused Laurent let go so instantaneously, or if it was simply the knowing that gave him that freedom, that he could turn his cheek and later claim again, _it was stronger_. 

Laurent fumbled between their already sweat-slick bodies to grip them both, or rather hold them together, so when Damen rocked against him the grind was sweetly felt. So sweetly, in fact, that Damen held Laurent as he shuddered into his completion only moments later, and the slick result caused Damen to moan _Laurent_ into the lovely line of his neck and follow after him.

After they caught their breath, Laurent raised his hand to examine the mess left behind. Damen, head on his chest, caught his wrist and drew his fingers close to his mouth instead.

“I thought we would go farther than that tonight,” said Laurent. It was a challenge and an invitation.

His voice had pitched higher as Damen’s tongue split his fingers and licked their mingled stickiness away. He felt Laurent’s body again light up, slowly, like an uncertain lamp. Damen smiled.

“We will,” he promised. “I want to do more than only touch you.”

“I like you touching me.”

It was a quiet confession, and Damen liked it as much as he liked every other one of Laurent’s little admissions, which was very much. His smile widened. 

He nuzzled Laurent’s palm, then sucked his fingers truly clean. Laurent groaned and Damen leaned up to trap the sound between their mouths, letting go of his wrist to stroke him where he was hard again. Enough mess remained that Damen could collect it with his other hand, then press those wet fingers into Laurent.

Damen had not had a moment of recovery after his first climax, but he didn’t need one. He roused in the moment after Laurent started to plead his name and the moment before Laurent began to tremble with the makings of sensitivity. 

“I need to – I… _Damen_ —” 

Everywhere Laurent dragged his hands, Damen came apart at the seams, like his flesh could simply unfurl and let Laurent at the raw, hot nerves underneath. Damen’s head dropped to Laurent’s shoulder, his own breaths too fast, trying not to rush, but then… 

“Damen, please,” gasped Laurent, and somehow he’d wriggled enough space between them to grasp hold of Damen’s wrist, Damen’s fingers down to the last knuckle inside of him.

Laurent was not demanding that he stop, it was completely encouraging, and so Damen didn’t stop, not until Laurent whimpered and trembled more than even before, hips jerking with his pleasure. He covered his own mouth with his arm, biting down. Damen took his arm from him and kissed the mark Laurent had left behind, then ran his tongue across it, curious how Laurent would take the action.

Then he was kissing Damen and they were off once again. 

“Let me,” Damen begged, his voice like the hot rasp of dry sand.

He rocked against Laurent, his cock only rubbing against Laurent’s abdomen, his thighs, his stomach, sticky. Laurent tucked his mouth against Damen’s shoulder, his strangled breaths like sobs between the gasping agreements, the wanton weight of desire sitting heavy in the way he murmured _Damen_ , and then the sudden, stark relief of a sigh as Damen slid home and settled flush with him. 

Damen, for his part, fell speechless. His muscles flexed with the effort of staying still. Laurent’s desperation was stymied, but Damen’s was on the edge of a long fall. Then Laurent was coiling fingers through the hair at his nape and pulling him down. Damen went, powerless. He felt Laurent turn his head towards his, cheek to cheek, mouth to ear.

“Take your pleasure. I know you want to. I can _feel_ you. What are you waiting for?” A kiss, a hint of lips. “Fuck me.” 

For all that the words were measured, the tone was not. Laurent sounded completely indecent, entirely dissipated. His volume wavered. His breathing faltered. His fingers, curled tight into Damen’s strands, tightened, stinging at Damen’s scalp.

Damen did not need to be told twice.

His blood sang with it as he chased his satisfaction in Laurent – Laurent, who clung tight to him; Laurent, who shivered when he felt Damen’s pleasure reach its peak and topple over; Laurent, who, with his legs hooked around Damen’s hips, truly wrung the very last of his orgasm out of him with astonishing speed. Damen took him in his hand again and felt Laurent pulse before spilling again.

“ _You_ are my pleasure,” Damen said eventually, sex-rough and content for all of a moment. The need would take him again, but for now, words could be exchanged.

Laurent, flushed, stared with dark eyes. The thinnest blue outlined his irises, pupils huge. His lips were red and wet. He looked like the very picture of someone who was burning with lust, yet had also already come three times.

Damen grinned. Laurent’s flushed deepened, impossibly.

Somehow they made it into bed before the next swell of want. Damen half-carried Laurent, half-stumbled with Laurent helping catch him, neither of them willing to part from the other for more than a second at a time.

Damen was so attuned to Laurent, all of his actions and reactions. It was the _chalis_ and it was not. Damen knew Laurent down to his heart, down to his lies, and the _chalis_ only heightened this always honest thing between them. Their bodies tangled, needful, too hot beneath sheets and too hot in the night air. Their sweat mingled. Their mess smeared. Their bodies joined again, an opened phial of oil rolling off mattress.

Laurent dropped his head against the pillow, his lips parted, and Damen stole a kiss in the euphoria of it. He dragged his teeth down the pretty length of his throat, leaving evidence of their coupling scattered in marks across Laurent’s body. Like a map or constellation, they could be followed, traced and tracked – here, Damen bit at the crook of his throat, and there, Damen sucked a deeper bruise into the pale canvas of skin. Two kisses away, and Laurent’s shoulder bore the sign of another nip of teeth, this one dragging upwards like an artist's sweeping brush stroke. Damen had needed to pull Laurent upright for a moment, and it had shifted the intended place for that marking.

It still looked beautiful, Damen thought, mouthing it again as he spilled inside of Laurent. 

Damen took Laurent in his mouth afterwards, swallowed down the little salt taste that he was given. Now, Laurent came dry, but he arched and then curled into Damen’s ministrations as if it didn’t matter. Damen found it a perfect opportunity to leave marks on the inside of Laurent’s thighs, too, so he did. Gladly.

“You...”

Laurent panted. Then he laughed, shaking with it. The weightless sound alone was enough to draw Damen’s eye, but then Laurent was touching the side of his face and cupping his cheek and bringing him up once more to kiss him past a smile.

“Thank you,” Damen heard Laurent mumble into his mouth.

Damen let the kiss linger on, until kissing turned to rutting and rutting turned to fucking again, and then it was his turn to laugh. Laurent’s body had a sweaty sheen to it, both of them gasping for air, grasping and grabbing at each other for purchase, for friction.

“Thank you? Oh, I’m nowhere near done with you,” Damen promised to the jut of his collarbone, licking the sweat from the hollow of his throat.

Laurent gave a head-to-toe shiver, then took Damen’s damp hair in grip to look him in the eye. He smiled as sharp as ever, but his eyes remained half-lidded. Witnessing it was enough to make Damen feel as if he was struck by lightning, his spine turned to fulgurite in the same burst of sparks that stole all the breath from his lungs.

“Good,” Laurent said, warm with ardor.

Damen fell on him again, Laurent reeling him in.

**Author's Note:**

> They went through all the oil, but that wasn't as sweet of an ending line.
> 
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
